Fantasy Hunter's Moon [IC] [CLOSED]

[EdwardDewey98]

After talking with everyone, Jakob decided to get some rest before heading back inside. He knew that they'd likely be stuck there waiting for the next few days for replies from both Father Bartley and Father Weston (then likely heading for Tresomin), so he wanted to be in the best condition he could be. After taking off his uniform, he put his revolver in the night stand next to his bed and went to sleep. Hoping that during it, Erwin wouldn't stab Aleister in the heart with a chair leg or something.

-----

Jakob was picking turnips on a small plot of farm in southern Atraca, digging through the dirt to pull a rather difficult one out to put in a basket. His wife Cecil stood nearby, hanging wet clothing onto a drying rack, while little Lucy was playing with her teddy bear. Jakob looked to his wife for a moment, smiling. "That girl seems to love that teddy bear more than her daddy." "Oh don't be silly. She adores you." replied Cecil. Jakob chuckled. "Heh, I hope so! I can tell she's gonna be an amazing little lady in the future."

"Sarge?"

Jakob stopped for a second. A figure was standing before him now. "Sarge?" He slowly raised his head up to see a young Atracan soldier with a bullet hole in his chest. "Sarge...why did you do it?" Jakob's face went pale, as he slowly crawled backwards. He stood, but before he could turn and run, more young men in uniform appeared behind him. "Why did you do it, Sarge?" Jakob, trembling in fear, pulled his revolver and aimed it at the beings around him. But their haunting voices penetrated deep into his mind. "...we just wanted to go home."

"G-GUH..." Jakob suddenly woke up in his room at the lodge. His breathing heavy. He simply rolled out of bed, putting his uniform back on and heading back downstairs to the bar. Once there, he popped open another beer bottle. Maybe it'd help him forget what he just saw.

 

[Dmaster]

The Escarian huntress laughed quietly at Aleister's speculation on whether his murder weapon had butter on it or not. It was a dignified, soft laugh that sounded exactly like one would expect from a woman of her upbringing. Dignified and slightly haughty, but polite and nice to listen to, a few fanned fingers covered her mouth to hide its opening. "This is perhaps the longest conversation I have had with a vampire." she says, shaking her head yet again. Perhaps that was worth something to the woman, or perhaps she had found it ironic since the only reason he lived was because Witlock willed it. Regardless she pushed out from the table, looking deathly serious for a moment before quickly standing up. In a flash she drew her rapier with the singing steel of its blade sliding against the sheath rapidly. In a mere second its point was staring Aleister in the face, and she hung there, ready to thrust yet still for several moments before withdrawing her stance and flipping the blade to point downward. She sat back down, laying the finely crafted weapon on the table.

"Then the story of the sword you shall know. Long-winded and personal as it is." the Escarian says flatly, pulling her chair back in as she folded her arms across the table. "Yet if you can stand to listen to the ravings of market riff-raff you will find much more weight to my history." Camille said with a smirk.

"I am the second born child of House Giguere, a daughter and had long after my brother, if I am to have any stake in family dealings he would either need to fall ill or pass on. That is fine, as I have long since come to terms with how the most I would ever amount to was a manicured hand to be wed to some other family. A joint marriage for political power and wealth, as is typical where I come from." she explains, only to point a finger upwards to interrupt that thought process. "But - us Gigueres have a history of women at the helm, and we would need to both be 'lady-like' as well as hold our own in open waters or abroad. The business of trade takes you to many far away, often seedy places. For that reason we have had the aid of another family, House Durand. There exists a school just due east of my family estate, Ècole de Prairie Blanche."

Camille continued on. "In truth it was just a manor on their estate, as the tradition was as old as it was private. My mentor, Mistress Louise Durand, was a cutthroat woman determined to teach me and other noble girls how to behave, history and arithmetic, and most importantly; how to duel. Escarian tradition takes duels very seriously, and many were not above challenging women for their honor." she explains, tapping her fingers against the wooden table. "I was lost as can be, as even a prodigy needs the right teacher if they have no idea how to hold a sword, let alone use one. The Mistress was the perfect one for my upbringing, harsh yet fair, always ready to chastise you and lambast you publicly among your peers over the slightest slip up or mistake. A twelve year old in this unfamiliar environment, I wanted to break down and cry in my room every night. 'Just what I would expect from a nothing second-born.' she would say. And yet... every time I wanted to return home, curl up in a ball, or kick and scream and demand I be sent back home, my anger stopped it. What did this dirt-heel woman know about me? I would prove her wrong, I would become the greatest duelist the nation had ever known."

"Time and effort saw to my improvement, I parried her insults like the swipes of my peers. My form would be perfect, execution flawless, I would prove this woman to be the fool I knew she was." she went on, balling that hand into a fist. "Years went on in that school, my only refuge the few weeks we would have back home in the winter and the weekends . Even still I trained and trained, at home or at school, and I quickly became the top duelist of my class. No one could match me, and I grew so brazen I would begin requesting duels with Mistress Durand. 'You are not ready, Giguere.' she would spit, not once encouraging me or congratulating me on my progress. Even as a progidy, she simply made things harder on me." Camille chuckled after that, looking to the blade and sighing. "A fantastic teacher. Had I become complacent or earned that wicked woman's affection, what would my goals be next? There would have been nowhere else to go. I realize now, after all these years that I could have beaten her in a sparring match near my final years of attendance. She would never give me the satisfaction of proving her wrong."

"At the age of twenty I graduated, the later years of school crumbling to just fencing practices sparsed throughout them, the basics having been finished years ago. After a hard time at the ceremony and one last denied request for a duel, I was gifted the commissioned piece before you. 'I will contact you when you are ready to face me.' were her parting words to me." she explained. "Five years passed, and in them I continued to train, taking lives in duels against upstarts and braggarts with that very blade. My skill was, and still is, unparalleled. It was all so... boring. Men and women meeting their end over petty duels. Nothing could measure up or challenge me. Social gatherings, parties, what have you, it mattered not. People began wanting to duel me from my reputation alone, and I of course would accept. Despite that I soon grew content knowing that I would have to never stop training, never stop fighting, to reach her. So I did, I would make something of myself rather than doll myself up to be some businessman's wife."

The Escarian huntress suddenly leaned forward, eyes looking through Aleister as she was silent for some time. "Imagine how I felt when I finally received the letter to see her, arriving in the dead of winter. Surely the meeting wasn't the duel I thought, the specific date and time my presence was requested on the letter made it seem more like a class reunion than a personal summons. Regardless I would go and make her face me, I would not be refused for so long." Camille said, a spark of ire and conviction in her eyes. "Yet I realized something was off when my carriage pulled up to that snow-caked manor, other rides were nowhere to be seen. This meeting was indeed personal, but in that starless night I felt a chill that was not the mere result of the seasonal weather. When I cross through the threshold Mistress Durand greeted me herself, regarding me as an old friend and esteemed guest. I did not think much of it, but after all those years the woman looked the exact same, unweathered by time or age. She looked very more youthful than ever, in fact. Something was very wrong indeed."

"I did not have to wait long for my answer, as she lead me through the halls and into the ballroom, she regaled and confessed that I had been her greatest pupil. After all those years of being reminded of supposed inadaquence, it was a rather hollow victory." she admitted, taking a deep sigh after. "Then came the truth. In those years that had followed my graduation the woman had contracted vamprisim, describing it to be an eye-opening experience. At the time I only possessed a cursory knowledge of the creatures, the knowledge of how to kill them only being something I picked up on hunters' first-hand accounts. Still, the news was stunning nonetheless. She offered me not only eternal youth, but the fact that my skills would be heightened far beyond human limitations. A tempting offer and yet..." Camille narrowed her eyes, clenching a fist again. "I would be the first she would turn, she phrased it as if it was an honor. I stood silent, and the way a hand rested on the hilt of her sword I knew it was not a request. This was meant to be a secret. I thought of my cousins, my extended family and other noble girls she would turn next. I refused, for she needed to be stopped. With a suckle of her teeth in faux-disappointment, she drew her blade. I drew mine."

Camille straightened up in her seat, laying her palms flat. "It was at that point I knew that my mentor was truly gone." she said solemnly. "Of course, I was terribly outmatched. She came at me with speed I could barely perceive, much less react to. Time and again she came at me, glancing blows of slashes and knicks to my side. It hurt, but she was clearly toying with me. Nevertheless I was frightened to my core, for the first time in a long time I had truly feared for my life."

"I had to retreat, find some means of escape. I ran out the ballroom and down the nearby hall, her laughter bouncing throughout the manner all the while. That speed meant she was horifically close, and in a panic I ran into the dining hall." she continued to recount, eyes squinting intently as she spoke faster. "There was nowhere to run, and before I knew it she had me pinned to one of the banquet tables, fangs poised and ready to drain me dry. In the corner of my eye, I spotted a silver piece of cutlery, a steak knife. The manor table was always set between meals, and that instinctual memory played to my advantage. Quickly as I could I plunged the blade into her neck, the vampire giving a wail of pain as I drove it deeper. She threw herself off of me, and I scooped up my rapier while I kept the knife in my off-hand."

The huntress' expression crept into a wry smile. "What followed was the greatest duel of my life. All of the pain, all of the terror melted into those moments and movements. Without her speed, I found the holes in her sloppy technique, wittling her down with reaching stabs and slashes of that cutlery. A chair broke apart by its legs in the struggle, that was my chance. I swept out her leg, cast the knife into her stomach and threw my weapons down to grab the makeshift stake. It was barely sharp enough, but I summoned my strength to drive it right through her heart. She gasped, sucking in air before a coy grin plastered across her face as she seized up. Frantic, I leapt up and retrieved a lantern from the table, casting it on her paralyzed form and using more furniture as tinder. By the time it was said and done, I walked away from that manor as the pyre began to overtake it."

Her story concluded, she reached out and tapped the blade with her two fingers. "That knife I used was melted down, added to the casting to coat the rest of the rapier in silver."

 

[Infab]

Several miles west of Bromwich...

Deep in the hills, in a patch of forest, a pair of women sat in the darkness. One of the women, perched atop a large bolder, perked up all of a sudden as if she had heard an animal nearby in the bushes. But really, that wasn't the case. Cassandra's face twisted into a grin. "...she drank the blood." she said, the words slipping between her lips almost like a whisper. The other woman's head tilted, turning a bit and peering up to Cassandra with burning yellow eyes. "...And?" asked the woman, raising an eyebrow.

Cassandra glanced down to the woman. "She drank the blood...which means eventually she'll want more. I'm sure the other one will drink his vial as well." she responded, before looking back up towards the cloud dotted sky. The woman on the ground shifted a bit, the iron chains binding her to the ground jingling a bit as she moved. "...I thought he wanted you to kill them all. Not play games with them."

"Oh, he did. But I do things my way. He should know that by now." said Cassandra, waving a hand off to the side. "You should know that too, Sazak. Otherwise, you'd be dead already." Sazak chuckled lowly. "Oh, then I thank thee, oh gracious one." said the woman, rolling her yellow eyes. The only visible part of her eyes were the yellow irises, as the rest of the eye was a jet black. Invisible in the darkness. They simply appeared as two yellow orbs moving about.

Cassandra cut Sazak a look. "I want to watch the two slowly turn against the others. Killed by the vampires among them instead of the ones they were hunting. Its poetic." Sazak chuckled again. "Are you prepared in case they don't?" she said, the yellow orbs moving over to look upon Cassandra on her rock. Cassandra returned the gaze. "...Yes. I am. I'll slaughter them just like everyone else. But for now, I'll just string them along. I already told them that I'm going to Tresomin. They'll figure out that I've gone to the party from there. At the party, I can speak to them and give them more vials. String them along a bit farther."

"Right...and what of me?" asked Sazak. Cassandra giggled. "Well, I leave you here to die, of course. Some wild werewolf or bear will kill you before any help comes." She then slipped down off the boulder, looking back to Sazak. Sazak, strangely, had a grin on her face. "You sure about that? We can bet on it." she said, the yellow orbs locked onto Cassandra. Burning in the darkness. Cassandra smiled. "You know I don't make bets with demons."

Sazak chuckled. "Aw. Pitty."

 

[Radley]

"A fascinating tale" Erwin said as he approached the pair, having apparently overheard the story as he entered the inn, "The will to live is a humans greatest power, but pride seems to be of equal standing for you."

He looked towards Aleister and his new outfit, "A welcome change of attire, Preacher. No one was going to take you seriously in a gaudy foxhunters attire anyway."

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Aleister twitched only slightly when Camille stood and drew her rapier, pointing the blade at him, the tip lingering only a few inches from his face. He already had one hand on the table, and he was prepared to simply swat the sword aside while his other hand, resting on his leg, would push the table into the woman. That is, if she had made an actual move to attack. In the brief few seconds the blade was leveled at him, he felt that it would be incredibly odd for her to make an attack on him now at all times, and secondly, she had it leveled at his face. Not his chest. It would not be very... amusing to be stabbed in the face, but it wouldn't kill him. When she finally lowered the rapier and sat back down, he felt incredibly relieved, and he relaxed a little more in his seat.

When she launched into her story, Aleister found himself truly entranced. It seemed remarkable that she would reveal this to anyone, and this was the first time she actually behaved like a normal person to him. That fact alone was enough to garner his attention, but the story she told had him drawn in immediately. He held on to every word she said.

Hearing about this Mistress Durand was tragic on numerous levels, and Aleister felt a woeful pain as he considered how this woman fell from grace, and how Camille was forced to fight her not as mentor to student, but for her very life. It was a painstaking betrayal between the two of them, and he finally understood, in part, why this woman was so brutally horrific towards vampires regardless of their alignment. It was also rather tragic that this Durand had the gall to put Camille in a spot where had she not accepted, she would have been slain. That wasn't the vampirism speaking, but the very nature of the woman. From what he had just heard, the woman seemed cruel indeed, and perhaps not entirely from the position of a harsh but fair mentor.

"I must admit, I am rather moved by your story," Aleister said softly. "I do not know what else to say, aside from that I am truly sorry you had to face your mentor in such a way. It is tragic... and unfair. To know the sting of betrayal is a pain that no man or woman should ever have to suffer. But the nature of the betrayer is... complicated." He paused for a moment, wanting to gauge his words properly. He could tell Camille clearly respected this woman before her fall, and perhaps she still did deep inside, but he could not outright say it was because the woman already had a fault in her soul that she acted the way she did. Durand being a vampire likely had little impact on her actions. It seemed to him that the woman had denied Camille for so long because she knew she would never beat her student, and only with the abilities of a vampire did she have the hope to do so.

"I believe those who betray people's trust, their allegiance, or even their friendship, are born with that capacity. The lover who turns against their spouse for another did not do so because they were tempted in the moment by the passion of the flesh for a fleeting encounter, but because they were already a betrayer at heart. The turncoat is much the same. It is in their nature. Spouse, friend, soldier, king... it is all the same in the end. A peasant turned emperor, for example, who commits some act of treachery against his people does so because he was born with that sickness in his heart. It wasn't the crown that made him act that way, or the laws of his magistrates, or even all the gold in his coffers. It is a terrible fault, a crack, a great abyss, which already existed right here," Aleister said, tapping his chest above his heart with his forefinger. "And for you to have felt the pain as the betrayed from a mentor, no less, is something which I am truly sorry for."

He went quiet for another moment, contemplating revealing some of his past to her as well. This wasn't a confession to a preacher, but them speaking as... if not equals for the moment, then at least as colleagues of the inquisitor. It was only appropriate that he speak a little as well.

He paused only briefly to acknowledge Erwin's remark as the man approached, offering a shrug. "As I told Jakob... business calls for business attire."

Aleister then turned his attention back to Camille and he cleared his throat.

"I count myself fortunate to not have been betrayed by anyone close to me, and I pray that I never have to suffer that. But... I have suffered other terrible pains, at the hand of wrath and greed. You see, when I was still mortal at the age of... twenty-two or so, I set off on a pilgrimage. I had been given a parish to fill in for a priest that had passed away, and for the first six or so months, I tolerated it. Yet after hearing for the fiftieth time that some farmer was sleeping with the milkmaid... or the tavern owner was watering down his ale... or that some merchant was pilfering his partner's coffers... I had enough. I would not commit myself to living my entire life there. My words fell on deaf ears. Half the village didn't attend the church, and the other half that did did so because they couldn't stand the embarrassment of their neighbors thinking them to be immoral for not attending church," he explained with a sigh, shaking his head.

"So I set off, alone, on a pilgrimage to follow the steps of my patron Saint Bartholomew. If you are unaware of him, that is not a surprise. He was said to be a mousy, unintimidating man. He was also a follower of both Gyasis and Undite. He traveled the continent, much as I do now, learning and spreading wisdom as he could. He was eventually martyred when he stood up to brigand hedge knights to stop them from razing a village. He succeeded... only because in the time it took for them to torture him and tie him to a post and burn him alive, some villagers had managed to summon the local liege's forces to put the knights down."

"I traveled for several years and it was not... a very happy journey. But it was a very enlightening one. I learned a great deal. Perhaps another day I can tell you some of those stories, for many of them are long. You may find some enjoyment from the one where I was tortured at the hands of some Tsavanian inquisitors... but as I said, a tale for another day."

"Eventually once it was all over, I returned to the city of Montclair, where I had attended school at St. Catherine's. I had no place to go, and there was no work then for a disheveled young priest who had disappeared for a few years only to return again. I was tired and beyond weary, so I turned to some... old friends, so to speak. You see, when I was about fourteen, I had unknowingly befriended a group of young girls who were vampires. I saw them in the evening when I liked to go on walks, for the stars were so beautiful back then... now clouded with smoke from the mills today, but regardless, I was naive. I simply thought them to be rather peculiar. I mean, looking back, who but vampires would have a picnic late at night?" Aleister said, chuckling.

"Their mistress, of course, when she discovered the friendship forbade me from meeting them. For the safety of everyone involved. I didn't quite understand it back then as I do now, but when I returned from the pilgrimage, I felt that I had no place to go but to see them. Foolish, don't you think? A weary little priest seeking shelter with vampires. The mistress of the estate heard me out and was perhaps moved by my story, or the urging of her daughters to let their old friend stay with them may have convinced her. I simply wanted a roof above my head and a bed to sleep on, but for the first few weeks, I was terrified. I thought at any second I would feel those fangs upon my neck to suck my blood away. I thought I would be turned into a mindless, awful ghoul."

"And not once did they lay a hand upon me. I had finally found work as an assistant at the cathedral in town, but I had become fond of the estate. Rekindling my old friendship with those four peculiar girls had convinced me that I wanted to stay there with them. It was... fun. And the mistress and I had a lot to discuss, as we both could talk, and talk, and talk, long into the next day without realizing it. A year or so passed and I was well involved with the family. Five vampires, one an ancient mistress, and four young girls who spent their time knitting, riding horses and the like, and then myself - a mortal priest."

"One day a... gentleman caller paid us a visit. We were aware of his coming arrival, so we had prepared a fine dinner. I didn't know much about him, though the mistress of the house did. It was supposed to be little more than a simple dinner. The man knew they were vampires beforehand, I think, and eventually the gathering turned quite sour. Before I realized what was happening, he had grabbed one of the girls... Bethany... a sweet darling who couldn't even bring herself to swat a fly. He had one hand around her neck, his nails digging into her throat, while the other held a silver dagger, poised at her heart from behind. Gods... her eyes," Aleister said, his voice faltering slightly. "Wide, lifeless, begging for help as she couldn't move or speak, such was the strength of his grip. Simply absolute terror in those glassy blue eyes."

"To see this girl who I called a sister on the verge of simply being murdered froze me to my seat. When negotiating with him deteriorated even further, he slowly began to plunge that dagger into her back. Her screams were the loudest thing I have ever heard to this day, and at that moment I had never moved faster in my... mortal life. I snatched up my dining knife, a simple piece of cutlery probably not unlike the one you wielded against Durand, and I lunged at the man. I stabbed him right in the side and wrestled Bethany from his group, the poor girl paralyzed from the silver, but alive. The mistress of the house was out of her seat in an instant and had flown across the table, the dishes, the plates, everything smashed aside as she closed the gap in but a second. Her nails were driven right into his throat for the finishing blow."

Aleister paused and took a deep breath, his eyes slightly damp. He couldn't help but feel strongly on these things, be they from his own memory or from the story of another.

"Fearing for your life is one thing. I know I've felt that many times before. But nothing is so... so terrifyingly awful than fearing for the life of one you care for. I saw that hatred in that man's eyes and I knew from that moment that there was nothing more disgustingly sinful than that. Pure, prejudiced wrath. To want to take the life of what was an innocent child, simply because she was a vampire. It was dreadful."

"Bethany was still paralyzed when we had her settled into her bed. Her sisters never left her side for those following days while she regained strength, but that first night... the mistress took me aside. I suppose by that point it was simply an eventuality... and certainly a formality, for I could have likely asked for it myself at any point then... but she told me that if I desired the kiss of undeath, I would have it for saving her daughter's life."

Aleister then spread his arms and smiled, though his eyes retained the sadness he felt. "I think you know how the story likely ends after that."

"But, if I had to find a moral to our tales... I would say we should be thankful of dining room cutlery. May it forever be there in our time of need," he said with a forced laugh, holding his hand up as if he was making a toast with an invisible glass. Despite his little joke to ease his own mind from the troubling memory, he couldn't help but chastise himself somewhat. He didn't trust Camille enough to even give the name of his mistress or the others. Yet, perhaps they had reached an understanding here finally, or at least they were on the right path....

 

[Radley]

Erwin listened quite intently to the vampires story. He moved and sat himself down at the long end of the table.

"You were disgusted because you have never known true hatred..." He said, removing his hat and lowering his collar. He looked upon the candle on the table while gripping the arm where the tattoo was located.

 

[joshuadim]

During this time, Ethraeil had moved from being seated at the bar to being behind the bar and tinkering with the glasses and alcohol that the inn had stocked. In the distance he heard Camille and Aleister, to his surprise, chatting between each other. I suppose they might get along then. he thought to himself as he kept himself semi-occupied. It was interesting how easily they managed to (somewhat) reconcile their differences. Perhaps whatever they spoke of was indeed helping them mend their ties after the original hostilities.

This group is indeed strange in many ways. he silently remarked in his head with a bit of amusement.

 

[Dmaster]

Camille had stayed silent as she listened closely to Aleister's story, that solemn look in her eyes from earlier continuing to persist once he spoke of his turning. He still clung to these feelings and memories as any person would, which she found terribly sad given his circumstances. And the man had willingly chosen to turn into such a monster, which was even more sad as she thought about it more. Aleister seemed genuine in his sympathy for her and her situation, which had her feeling rather conflicted over the implications he began to make next. In truth Camille was not all that sad over her mentor's death, it had just for the most part been a wake up call and inspiration to her. When he was finished with telling his story, she straightened up and twisted her mouth as she thought on his words. His remark on dining room cutlery got her to smile and chuckle, but soon her expression became distant and serious.

"That woman, my mentor. Regardless of any capacity for betrayal she was still someone I respected, even though I would never admit it back then. I admired her dedication to the art, and pushing me to heights I never thought would be possible by giving me something to strive for." she begins. "Perhaps she always had betrayal in mind, but as I have seen it in her and many other vampires I have slain - once you are bitten you cease to be the person you once were. Vampirism, much like a plague, is a disease. And like a disease with no cure it either slowly eats away at you or rapidly kills you. Many vampires use their immortality and power to do things they would never do otherwise. It corrupts them, changes them into beings of instinctual bloodlust and hunger." Camille continues, looking through Aleister yet again.

Quietly she tapped her index and middle fingers on the table now instead of the blade, trying to find the proper words to criticize Aleister's character without being as scornful as she usually does. "... Did you ever consider why that man was there that night? What he had come and set out to do? Did he have friends or family that would miss his passing?" Camille asked slowly. "Vampires live for such an exceptionally long time, in that time they have the opportunity to make many more mistakes or hurt many more lives. Human beings and their lives are so fickle and fragile, that girl probably lived a life more full and prosperous than he ever had." The Escarian huntress shook her head, trying to get back on track with the point.

"We all make our choices. Perhaps in another life I might have accepted her offer, taken the easy way out and terrorized or killed innocent people later down the line. But I chose not to, for my whole life I have been accepting of my limitations." she explained with rising conviction. "I choose to work past them, and push those boundaries each and every time I do battle. Every time I face a vampire, pureblood or not, I am fully at peace with the fact I may die at any moment. I would rather risk death for duels that make me truly feel alive than drift about my nation without ever improving myself or my life."

"You, Aleister, have convinced me that you were a good man, and perhaps even still are now. But the fact of the matter remains; you accepted that choice, and that disease will continue to whittle away at you. Be it now or in your past, you have done something motivated by your bloodlust, you have fed on someone as a means of revenge or aggression. And if it truly hasn't happened, that is commendable - but it will only be a matter of time before you use your immortality and powers as all other vampires do."

 

[Viper Actual]

After standing guard outside the inn for quite some time Galina made her way outside. She went behind the bar, placed her shotgun ontop of the wide counter and then removed her now wet cloak before grabbing a bottle from the wall.

It was a bottle of Daristein brandy. Thirty years old. Galina placed two glasses on the counter and filled them up. She moved one of them over to Jakob before grabbing the other one.

Galina raised her glass. "For the fallen."

 

[EdwardDewey98]

Jakob was on his fifth bottle of beer. He wasn't a lightweight drinker, so he wasn't really even tipsy yet. Still, he desperately wanted to forget the nightmare he just had. Galina's voice coming from behind him made him jump a bit, but he looked at the glass of brandy next to him. Placed by the madame herself. "...For the fallen." said Jakob, taking it and gulping it down. "...Wow, gods be damned that's some good brandy. Used to drink the stuff a lot back when I was in University." he said, with a smile.

 

[Infab]

The night continued on, with everyone continuing their conversations before eventually heading to bed. Since Cassandra was long gone, and there were now constables out watching things so as to make sure nothing else bad happened that night, the group was able to get a good night's rest. Well, most of them anyway.

A few days passed, as the group prepared for a potential journey to Tresomin. Following after the wicked Cassandra in an attempt to find out exactly what had changed about her and who this mysterious employer was of hers. Rosanna taught Mariette to use a revolver and a rifle, in the event that she should ever need one. She also assisted the others in improving their aim and skills with their firearms, should they have one. It was better to know how to use one now, considering the threat they now faced as well as the threat of the unknown.

The letters from Father Bartley and Father Weston arrived soon enough. Bartley's messages and information was rather unneeded at this point, as they already knew who had killed any inquisitors and church members in the area lately. Weston's was far more important. There had been a few records kept over time of specific bloodlines affecting vampires in different ways, as it did other creatures like werebeasts. As for the Romanovs, the records that the Church kept indicated that they were of a special breed of werewolf called a Dire Werewolf. Far larger and stronger than your typical werewolf, they were similar to purebloods in that they were rather difficult to kill. Still, somehow most of the bloodline was killed off save for a few decendants who's names were kept from the public by the Order and Church.

As for assistance against Cassandra, two tomes were sent by Father Weston himself. Both were divine magic tomes, one meant for the casting of powerful spells and the other meant for the blessing of weaponry and other objects. Nothing else could be sent, as apparently manpower was needed elsewhere. An uprising of werebeasts was occuring in the highlands in northern Daristein, and everyone was needed to put it down and quickly.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Aleister wasn't sure how to respond to Erwin's remark, and he eyed the man wearily, his eyes narrowing slightly. "At that point in my life, I had already seen my fair share. But... yes, up until I met that man I did not know the feeling of seeing that degree of wrath leveled upon those I cared for."

He then turned and looked Camille over.

"I do not know much of that man who visited our house. He was dour and crude. You may think he was there for vengeance, but I do not think so. There was no such passion to his actions. He spoke not of wrongs to fix, but of extermination. It was simply... cruelty. My mistress likely had a history with that man, but she, and my sisters... they are homebodies. They do not travel much outside of the estate and the society of our fellows. The girls, most certainly, did not have the capacity to harm others. My mistress is centuries old, and... perhaps may have done some things she regrets. But that affects mortals just as much as it affects vampires. All humans make poor decisions, and most will end up regretting them. The good ones do, at least"

"But I cannot agree that it is vampirism that changes a person. There is no doubt there may be more temptation for misconduct, but it is no different than the temptation for misconduct a magistrate, a solider, an officer, a count, or a king feels upon performing their duties. I come from a family of magistrates and judges, my father serving until his death by illness in our home town, and my eldest brother now in retirement in the capital of Atraca. Some of the most awful things I heard committed did not come from vampires, but from the wealthy. Does wealth corrupt? Possibly, possibly. Yet I still believe the capacity to fall for that corruption and temptation is a facet to all souls. Not all will so easily fall down that path. Undoubtedly, people can change, but I see it as a transformation of the soul. A nobleman's money didn't force him to undercut the merchants, or for him to lay with a servant. His soul naturally has the capacity to do so - the money, in this case, simply being an enabler. I find treachery, for example, to be close to cowardice. Is it so surprising to think that a coward would act moral simply to avoid punishment, and act as they wish when they can get away with it?"

"I do not deny many vampires are fiendish. But that is not because of the condition. It is because they were that way from the start. Allow me to pose this example to you... have you ever considered who many vampires were before they turned? You think that there was some great change between their life and their undeath. But that is, from what I have seen, overwhelmingly not the case. Many vampire nobles were already noble. They were already accustomed to a life of power, and like gaining wealth, they realize they can continue to act without restraint. Were they proper in the first place, their own morals, their own soul, would hold them back from their sins. It is not the vampirism, nor the wealth, nor the office which causes misconduct. It was inside them to begin with."

"Of course... there are exceptions. I have seen men live moral lives only to perform one, strange, outrageous act of sin that makes you wonder how they even managed to do so. Perhaps that is because they were corrupted. Or perhaps as I think, the capacity to act in that way was always there, lurking and awaiting the moment to strike."

"If I become what you think I will, some cretin with hate and bloodlust in my heart, then that is because I had such a fault in my soul from the day I was born. I have done a number of not so good things, but never have I acted so wantonly... sinful. I am not ashamed to say my pleasure comes from vanity and the like. I tread my path carefully to ensure that I do not become like those you think of when you imagine vampires. Perhaps I am holding back what is natural in my heart, or perhaps I am standing watch for an enemy which will never come," Aleister said finally with a shrug.

"I cannot say for sure. That is why one must live righteously, being true to themselves and fair to their common man. No soul is perfect, and I do not expect perfection from anyone. Only fairness."

After a moment, he leaned back in his chair again and sighed. "But the night goes on, and I can tell everyone here is tired. Myself included. I don't sleep much, but a rest is always welcome."

He finally stood and stretched a little before nodding to Camille and, hesitantly, to Erwin. "Until tomorrow." He then made his way back upstairs and to his room, settling in.

----

After a couple days, it seemed like they were indeed pursing this Cassandra to Tresomin. It was going to be a most curious journey. Aleister wasn't so pleased with hunting this vampire down simply by following their footsteps, but it didn't seem like they had an alternative.

At least they had some magical tomes. That would go a long way to helping, Aleister figured. He didn't know if his own meager letter sent alongside Valeria's helped get them, but he liked to think it did. Being so far up in Grimtham was different than being down in the mainland. He had little influence here.

He eventually sought out the inquisitor. "My dear lady, what is the plan when we reach Tresomin? Certainly this pureblood will know when we arrive. We'll be at a disadvantage from the moment we enter the town."

 

[K0mori]

The night Mariette drank the Romanov blood, she had decided on how she would deal with Camille. She wouldn't lay a hand on the woman, but would put her through her own life's experiences by means of magic. Something had to give. The Raven couldn't go through life viewing vampires as a black and white matter, and this mission against an especially dangerous pureblood might cement her hatred even further. Unaware that Aleister was already making his own efforts to bridge the gab, Mariette waited until the small hours of the morning, when she was sure that the occupants of the inn had turned in for the evening. Satisfied, she leaped from one rooftop to another, avoiding detection from the few posted on watch, and then lowered herself over the edge of the building so that she could climb along its uneven surfaces.

Finally, she found herself looking in on Camille's room through the window. Mariette pushed on the window and found that it wasn't equipped with a lock, and entered the room without a sound. She readied her grimoire and set about weaving a dream, or more accurately, a nightmare. If Camille was to hunt the people of the night, to deny them peace as many had tried to do to Mariette, then the Raven will at least know what it's really like to live in fear of the sun's tyranny. The journey would need to begin at the beginning... Mariette silently mouthed her incantations in the dark as her fingers crawled over the runes before uncorking an extra vial of werewolf blood she had taken while refilling the blue-labeled one.

Bitten and turned... abandoned by your family... scorned by the world...

 

[Dmaster]

Camille just shook her head from side to side after hearing Aleister's opinion of things, clearly unmoved by his speculation on the souls of man. "You have your evidence, as I have mine. There is not a vampire yet that has wooed me with their innocence, and I am very doubtful I will ever encounter one in the future." she explains in a serious tone. As the vampire stands up and stretches she nods her head in agreement, as exciting of a detour this was from her night's sleep she did need rest just like everyone else. As he stood up, she did the same, grabbing her blade and finally sheathing it for what she hoped would be the last time tonight. The quills were gently inserted back into their holsters on her leg, and she turned and nodded to Aleister. "Regardless of my opinions we are to be working together. I am willing to bite my tongue as per the orders of the Senior Inquisitor, but do not expect me to skip through flowery fields with you and the countess any time soon." Having nothing more to say, she retreated to her room and prepared for bed.

Sleep came rather easily to her, but she found herself tossing and turning in the midst of a strange dream. It was back in her homeland, perhaps after this inquiry or... before it? Details were muddy and the dream unfurled in a blur, but it was a subject matter that she was not unfamiliar with. A hunt gone wrong, a vampire she could not slay that took her in its grasp and bit into her neck. When she awoke, it was nowhere to be seen, and the scornful wrath of the sun peaked just through the windows of the abandoned home she had tried to combat the creature in. Camille had felt a pit in her stomach that she had never felt before, a hunger that could only be sated by blood. It transitioned to what became of her next, arguing with her family as she was cast out of the estate for being a monster, her fall from grace becoming heard all over Escaria as a foolish girl that wanted to play hunter. Nights were spent on the streets, attempting to feed off of poorly attended livestock to stay alive, and the dream finally ended with her encountering another hunter. Shot by silver and knocked prone onto the ground, she awoke with a start when he drove the stake through her heart.

Gasping, sweating, she sat up from her cot and instinctively felt for scars of the holes in her neck where she was bitten in the dream. She found none, only to glance out the nearby window and extend a hand into the rays breaching through the glass. No burning. With a sigh she shut her eyes and collected herself, soon chuckling at how that nightmare had played out. On her hand she wore the band that Aleister had given her the night earlier, representing the god.. Gyasis, was it? Opening her eyes she quickly removed the ring and tossed it across the room, leaving it forgotten in a corner as she started to slip into her hunting gear. "I suppose that is what I get for discussing morality with a vampire." she whispers to herself, giving the trinket one last glance before she stepped out of the room.

After that she did not think much of her nightmare, not worried for its context or implications. In truth she found it to be terribly unrealistic, as while she was terrified of turning she knew that she would never allow the situation to persist that long. Vampires live on borrowed time, she believed, and it was only a matter of time she would become one of the monsters she despises if she lingered in such a form. If she were actually bitten in the real world, well, her options were limited and terribly clear.

-----

Over the following days she did what she always had done, training and discussing with the hunters she bothered to communicate with, but she mostly kept to herself. It was not out of being shaken or fearful of the road ahead, but extremely focused on seeing the task to completion. The glory of slaying a pureblood was extremely tantalizing to her, and she would revel in a battle with Cassandra once they were prepared.

Camille had been standing next to Valeria when Aleister came and posed his question, unable to resist a bit of soft laughter after he paused. "Monsieur, we are hunters. Fighting at a disadvantage is what we do." she replied, smile still holding. "Have you looked over those divine tomes? Anything that may give us a killing edge over that cocky parasite?"

 

[joshuadim]

Ethraeil usually stayed on vigil even in meditation, as it allowed him to be aware of his environment while also relaxing. But after the events of tonight, something changed as when he meditated he unintentionally began to slip into actual sleep. A lich didn't need sleep, and he was perfectly capable of functioning without any, but he could still do so if he wished. However, over the centuries he had learned and condition himself to avoid doing so. He immediately snapped from his drift, cursing himself before trying to meditate again. He once more began to drift uncharacteristically, and this time he wasn't able to stop in time. And so, cross-legged in the room he had been in earlier in the evening, he slipped into the depths of his mind.

---

Fire.

Screams.

Slaughter.

Everything was a blur at first as his eyes opened to the scene. As it began to clear, the flames rose higher than mountains as the screams of people reverberated throughout the ruined city. The sky was black with smoke and the roars of monsters filled everything else. Ethraeil stood alone on a pile of corpses, holding a bloodied crown in one hand, and a cursed sword in another. He immediately recognized where he was, most of his nightmares bring him to this moment in time. As he looked around the streets were flowing with the blood of the people that once walked upon it, corpses littering the streets as his minions ran amok. He had brought an ultimate death to this kingdom, his form of retribution for their wickedness and descent to darkness. None were innocent, guilt flowed through the land like a river. In the distance, his soldiers were rounding up soldiers and peasants alike for slaughter. None would be allowed to survive, and in the end they must serve a better purpose.

He began to walk down the main boulevard in a casual stroll, the embers of the burning buildings gently floating in the air as he moved through. But as he moved he saw a little girl stand before him. Her eyes were black as night while her entire body was covered in a layer of dirt and blood. Ethraeil only stared at her and awaited her to speak. As if on cue, she opened her mouth to extend far beyond what was normal. The gaping darkness within seemed to be an endless void of night as she spoke:

'Why?'

Ethraeil didn't respond, he only stared at her and gave silence as a response.

Why?




Why?

Why?
Why?
Why?
WHY?

WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY?

W̲̫͈͕̠͍̱͚̥͉͚̖̻ͤ͆ͩͧ̔ͤ̒̋͑̂́H̛͍͉̪̖̊ͥ̽̉ͤͮ͒͟ͅY̡̪͈̫̺̯̥̘̬̟̤̭̘̪̩̥̾ͬͩ̒̋̂ͤ͗̌͠ͅ ̸̘̖̳̹͚̣͕̭͉͍̫ͤ́́ͭ̉͆́̍̃̽̂̓̾́W̉̃̈́̏͏̵̢͏̜̲͙͖̺̗̫̥̜̹̝̙͙̙̟̩̯H̷̡̢͓̜̦̦͎͈̟̳͔͈̥̰͖̖̪̳ͭ̓̊͆̃ͤ̓̎̍̂͆̍ͨ̂̋̚̕͡ͅY̒ͤ̈ͪ̇̽ͩͥͩͨͮ̈́͊́̚͏̵͉̙͖͎̼̭̱̯͖̹̜̰̤̮͢ ̢ͯͬ͊ͨ̎̓́̏ͬ̏͏̶̢̞̯͎̠̯̦̙̭̟͈̠̳͎̳͎̦̱W̸̢̯̫͙̘͕͒̄̈́͆͑̇̏̆̽ͨ̈́̿̐̀ͦͪͨ̌͡H͔͇̮̱̠̖̘̬̹̪͕̿̆ͭ̉̉̈́ͣ̏͌ͮ͋̂̑̎͟Y̐ͪ̎̍̊͊̾̊̾̇̓́͐̇͒̏͏͢҉̨͙̜͉̰̠̹̰̪̰̻̦̯̹̝͈ ̖̫̩̇̈́ͨͬ̍̉ͭͥ̍ͣ͜͝ͅW̨̹̗̭͙̩̱̬̯̲͖̗͈̐͌̆̽̉̓ͧͨ͂̅̏ͯ̕ͅH̴ͣ̽ͥ̄ͥ̍ͦ̍͌͊͜͡҉̺̮̺̻͎̯͕͍͕͖̖͞Y̢̛̳̘͎̲͓͖͉͈̺̮̝̯̱̰͍̪̣̔ͪ͐̈́̑͐́̀ͧ͗̔̀̍̒̂͞ͅ ̤͇̣͍̗̺̮͎̤͍̹͉̯̓͂ͯ͛̉̃ͤ͐ͫ͗̍͑ͦ͐̐̈́̀ͣͫ͝W͕̠̠̩̙͊̆͗̓ͨ͝͡H̷͙̦̝͕̠̜̟̮͚̦̖͙̭̠̦̯͛̓ͣ̐̐̃ͯ̓̑͌́͝Ỵ̶̴̬͉̗͖̠̬͇̩̱̠͚̰̤̟̮͂͌ͭ̊̄͋͆̋ͥ̂͑͑͊͊͒ͦ̃ͪ̚͟͡ ̡̗̥̭̖̺͕ͦ̽̓̿̂ͫ͛ͭͨ͆̚̚͟͠W͊̀ͦͤ̋̆ͬ̃̃̃̏ͪ̄͑ͧ͂҉̵̵͕̗̙̼̥̬̩̗́͟ͅHͯ̂̽͛͐̍ͤ̀̚͏͉̯̬̜̹͍̭̻͍̻̯̪̹ͅͅŸ̴̜͎̪͓̝̰̰̙̘͕͙̣̮͇̤̳̖͈́̑̐͌̔̐̆̀́̋̈́̓͢͠ ̵̸̱̪̬͚̞͖̣̖̦̲͙̲͕̬͇̳͉̝̹̈́̈ͮ̾ͫ̇́ͦ͆ͣ̿ͣͤ̀W̨̳̪̳̫̖͙͉̼̹̫̤̖̭͈̺̝̖ͬ̃ͩͅH̶̡̝̖͖͎͍͉̠͙̰̞̤̜͕̙̹͙̫̘ͪ̑̉͐̃̍͂̒̾̃ͮ͌ͬ̒̾ͧ̾́͢͞Y̷̡̗̭̖͚̰̯͙̦͍͉͉̼ͬͩ͋̊̅̉ͭͣͦ̓ͪ͒͡ ̶̧͉̼̺̯͙͇̤͙̰̝͈̈́̏ͦͪ̈ͧͩ̈ͬͧͧ̋͋̈̒̂ͨ̚͢W̴̶̢̧͚͕̞̏̓̋̈͛͂̀ͅḨ̴̭͙̮͓̱̫̗ͯ̔̄͂ͭ͛͒̑ͤ̈́̄̃̍͗ͣ͟Y͋̉͒̅͊̎ͤ̈́͜͠͝͏̻̘̺̹͖͚̩̻̣̞̘̱͠ͅ ̴̖̥̭͕̮͈̗̤͕ͩͯ̉ͨͨ̈͗̔͑̂͘͢͢W̧͉̪̖̙̭̰̟̦̞͔͚̪̝͊ͮͮ͒̈̂͋͆̾͂ͪ̋̐͌͗ͮ̆Ĥ͉̩̪̮̪̼͕͇̦͈̳̞̜̺͕̀̄̆̾͛̅͗͐̚͟ͅY̫̦̤̹̘͛̀ͦ͗͋̽͗͆͐ͧͧ͋ͧ̕͜͡͝ ̴̘͉͔̝̹̯̞͍̜̺̜̹̖̺̼̽̋̄̀ͥͩ̐ͩ͑̄ͥ̊̒̉ͣ̚̚̚͘ͅW̧̛̯͓̘̟͚̼̣̲̬̪̭̻̪͆ͨ͛̆ͨͥͪ͟͢H̵͍̳̪͚̟̰̘͉͎͙̰̭̣̪́ͯ͒̂̈͆̔͌̀͆͘Y̴̸̛̫̣͎̟̐̃̅̓͋ ̷̢̹͎̫͍̞͖͍̟̰̣͎͍̮͓̝̣̹͛̎̇͂̾̀͝W̶̷͈̪̠̭͆͋̿̓ͪ̑͒ͦ̎ͥͥ̒͛̎͋͊́́̀Ĥ̴̛̦̺͎̦͍ͨͤ̌ͯ͛ͦ̊͗̌̈́͞͡Ỹ̷̰͚̪̗̣̓̾͂̃ͮ̎͆̈̓͂̈́̋̽ͦͩ̚̚͘͡͞͞ ̴̡̧̞͈̩̹̓́̾͌̍͗́Wͣ̔ͬ̐̊͑̏̊́ͧ͗̈́ͦ͑̑ͭ͋͘҉̦̳̰͈̹̫Hͯ̑ͣͦͯ́͗̊͏̛̣̞̟̰͎̲̪͈Y̷̷̸̸̺̦̭͇̣̗̫͚̭̗͍̹̘̙͈̲̹̥̿̄̓͒͗͘ͅ ̶̛̺̜͙͓͈̠̩̙̹͕̆ͧͬ͛̇ͬ͊̉͆̽̀ͭ̑W̵̠͖̮͎͚̹̘̬̗͍͈̉͆ͩ̓͠Hͬ̊̿ͪ͐ͮ̿ͧ̈̾ͯͣͮ҉̧̡̼̻̼̼͙̹̠̱͕̬̦̻͓̠Ỷ̈ͭ̓͢͝͠҉͈̻̯̫̻̲͙̬ ̆ͦͤ̊̓̈͑̈́̏ͫ̏͂ͯ͆ͥ̕͟͏̴̱̪̤̪̼̠̟̖͘W̧̨̩̳̠̺̠̺͔̟͙̩͚͉̻̫̫̮̠̋ͫ̿̑ͣ̽ͬ͒̑͒̌̔͋̓̚H̷̡̦̳̻̣̻̪̺̪̦̦̠ͫ̋ͤ̈̈́͆ͨͤͮ͑̾͂ͬ̾ͭ͛͆́̚Y̶̙̠̦͖̺͚̤̙̪̲̹͚͋͒̀̎ͭͮ̓̕͡ ̶̡͓͚̟͙̱̳̻͓̙͙̑̀͑̕͟ͅẄ̩̰̳̲̤̝̙͙̰̤͇̬͉̩͋̉̇́ͨ̀͋̿̏̑̊͛ͪ̚͞Hͬͭ̉̽̅ͭͤ͋̓͏͍̻̠̙͕͎̩͇̙̟͇̞̹͉̕͝͠Y̴̢̨̻̰̱̻͖̦ͤ̈́̋̓̇ͯ̆̏̇̽͢͟ ̸̀̄̍̐́̕͟͏̰̩̩̳͕̠̻̱̯̺͖̭̥̯̘͚̹͜W̢͌ͦ́ͣͩ͒̊͗̕̕҉͕̝̖̤͖̙͍̼̬͈͓̗̩̹͙Ḩ̸͙̰̻̙̦͇̤̲̒̌̅ͭ͛̿̒̉̊Ỳͩ̉̔̆̔͆̓̑͏̛͔̖͔̤̪̻̕͞ ̡̺̞͕̺̥̹͖͎̤͓ͥͫ͊̆̋̆ͮ̌͛̎ͣ̓̈̿ͧ͞W̛̛̖̟̥̗̲̩̲̭̙̮͈͙̘͕̒̏ͫ̍̀̀͘ͅH̄ͤ̆̅͊ͩ̒̄ͪͮ̔̉͐͡͏̷͔̗͎̭̦̖͎̻͔̣̙̼͘Y̡̨̤̤̪̩̣̮͔̼̞̥̫̖͍̯͑̽͊̒̅̍̇ͤ̎̍͆̈́͑ͪͥͨͯͮ̑̕͟͠ ̶̢͙̯͎̭̠̜̰͎̭̮̹̗̪̲͇̉͗͂̎ͦ̑ͥͤ̅̾͝ͅW̛̓͛͌̎̇ͧ͠͏̶̖͍̲̗̪̗̲͟ͅH̨̰̙̞͚͓̦̰̭̯̰̪̞̓͗̂̐ͭͬ͛ͫ̿̍̈́ͬͭ̎͢͝͞͝ͅY̨͕̲̲͖̬̩̗̥̏͒̓ͦͪ̋̃̅ͫ͡ ̤͚̗̱̈̑̿ͥͧ̑ͧ̏̂͌͋ͬ̎ͭ͒͡͠W̧̨̮̖̟̖̺̜ͧ̒̏̅̄H̷̷̵̡͔͉̜͓̹̮̼̳̤͉̰̱̺͚̤͎͖̭̐̐͋̋͌͂̋̓ͮ͛͡Y̵̧̍̏ͧ͐͟͠͏̩̭̮̪͈͔̦͎̰̱̞̤̭̹̙̟̲̘ ̸̸̧̛̼͕̙̞͇͍̟̉ͥ̈ͨ̔͡W̵̵̗̗͙̩͋ͬ̐̌̿̀̂ͦ͐ͫͩ͋̄ͧ̄̍̿́͜͠H͈̖̮͉̥̺̭͍̬̟̮̪̮̝̥̘̋͛̔͗̓͒ͫͮͭ͟͝ͅY̡̢̳͓̝͎̮̭̹̘̥̮̟̩̠̜̹̥̽̇̚̚͘ ̵̪̘̖͕͎̫̂ͪ̀ͫ̇̓̎͠ͅW̢̧̓̈͌͋ͧ̊ͣ̔̀ͥ͏̛͎̹̰̻͈͚̘̪̗Ḩ̴͈̠̹̮̯͚ͧ͑ͬͬ̄̄̀́͡Y̨̖̗̮͚͖͔̳̝̦̪͎̱̝͈ͥ̿ͧ̾ͯͤ͐ͧ͆͆̇̄̾̕͜͟ ̢̛̖̫̫͎̱̼̭͎͕͔̯̞̬͚ͤ̑͋͆͆͒̉͊ͣ̓͋̐ͯͭͧ̍ͮ̀̚͟͠W̐ͬ͌̆ͧ̂͑͌͡͏͍͕͕͚̦̼͟H̯͚̣͉̣̃ͪͮ̓ͮ͆̋ͪ̌ͫͥ̌͆̒ͮͪ̔͜Y̸̳̙͇̪̮͎̙̳̤̦̜̥̭͓̠̻̱͖ͨ̆́́ͪ̏ͅ ̸̶̩̱̤̬̂͌͆̔̀͗ͯͩͦ͋ͮͪ̾́̕W̵̗͎̭͖͖̖̗̹̟͎̣̩͍̭͙͉ͫͨ̅͒͊ͬ͋͆̐ͩ́͜͞H͑͋ͤ͗̉͏̯͙̹̘̤̬̞͓̠̰̭̺̙̙̼͜ͅY͍͖͉͖̳̖̘̗̖͇̥͑̌ͥ̃ͩ̄͊͌̏ͮ̊̂̽̀̌̚̕͞ͅ ̞͈̤̮̰͓̦͓̙̯̣̳̳͓͙̱̱̣̭̈́͒̋̈ͯ͑ͭ̾ͣ̓̐͠W̶̢̼͕͍̱͔͍̝̹͙͓͈̔ͤͭͦ͝H̭̜̭̺̥̼̹̤̙̬̭͕̳̭ͨ͆̇̎̓ͪ̋̌͆ͭ̉̒͒ͨ̆ͦ̓ͬ͘͘͡ͅY͒ͤͮ͐̔̏̅̎ͮ̎ͮ͋͋͒́͗͊ͭ҉̜͙͇̦̖̳̕͝ ͖͇̩̙̠̬͙͉͉̯̘̹̼̻̂͂ͥ̄́ͣͥͫͦ̽͂͟͡͞W̷̞̘͔͚̖̫̯͔̺̻̜̉̋͋̈ͧͤ̕H̷͖͚̙͈̝͎̝̬̜̏ͭ̆́ͯ͌͘ͅẎ̎̎̊̔̓ͮ̒͋̒ͥ͗̾ͫͥ҉̙̼͇̖̰̘̟͈̭̭̥͉̭̥̝̰͟ ̨̛̥͈̯̦̖̼͖͓̯͇͕̪͓͙̘͍̘̩̺͛ͩ̆͐̒ͯ͋̚Wͧ͆̆͑̍̂ͬͫͧ̿ͣ͌̄ͭ̄ͧ̓҉̰͚͉̰̣͈̳̝̫͙͓̬̫͖̼̰͚̀ͅH̢̡̩̖̖̺̭͖͕͍̜̖̘̪͇̒ͣ́͆ͥͤYͥ́͌ͬ̈́̾́̑ͫ̓ͩ̌ͤ̏̉̓͏̟̳͕̦͡ ̤̙̬̩̱̻͈̗̮ͣ́ͫͪ̽́̀̚̚͜W̝͈͎̪͎̣͒͂̌̃ͬ͌̈͘͘H͌ͦ̓ͮ̿ͪ͗̾̈ͤ͊͝͏̦̭̞̣͉̤͍́Y̶̡͎̬̦̳͚̩̥̟͓͇̹̝̹̮͊̂̏͗͛ͅ ̨̗͍͍̭̙ͥ͊̽ͯͦ͘Ẉ̴̵̵̢͖͎͔̜̬̣̖ͦͨͩ̈́̃̉̔͛̈́̊ͪ̾͋̈̚͘H̻̗̪̦̪̗̘͕̹̮͙̥͉ͩͮ̒ͪ̃͒ͧ͂̒̊́̏ͬ͛͠Y̶̷̪̦̟̘̦̯̪̹̬̫͙̝̼̣͎ͣ̈́̑̽́͝ ͛ͣ͊̓ͨ̾̊̽̎̔ͨ̎ͭ҉̛̫͎͉͇̯̖̣̼͜͝Ẃ͔̘̺̖̬͉̣͎̟̞̲͎̹̫̤̗͖̝͗̇̋͂͛̔̏͆̀̄̓ͮͭͬͣͯ̚͢H̵̜̮̤̙̭̭̙͉̲͈̺̣͍̘̲͍ͭ̊̎̾ͪ̽̀͑̎̉ͦ̚͟Y̴̯̮͚̼̞̟̖̱̟ͬ͆̒ͪ̽̑̎̋͋͋̐ͣ̽ͪ͒̓́͡ ̸̴̡̨̩̖͕̦͚̣̤̖̟̱͇̜̹̳̠̯͉̺ͪ̄ͮ̎͗̓͂ͬͪ̎̅̊̾̇̾ͨ̋ͯW̴̛̞̱̞͈̳̤̃̏̅ͮͧ̈̄̿͜͡H̸̴̡͎̣̥̗̭̜̳̼̖̗͓͎ͦ͌̎̀͜Ẏ͌̎ͬ̇͐̾̅ͦ̌҉̲̘͓̗̺̘̗̟͙̫̠͕̺͇̝̝́ͅ ̵̡̰̤̞̼̯̠̤͎̫̜̮̊̌̂̑͒́̆́ͅW̸̻͙̼͉̘̻̳̠̝̱͓̜̅̓ͪ̌ͧͨͭ͂͛͛̊͒̍ͭ̒̅ͭ́́̚̚̕͜ͅH̵͙͖̹͙͈̠͇̙̙̦͈̫̭͉͎͔͈͂ͥ̐͂̓͐ͦ͋͋́Y̧̢̼̻̙̼̪̞͈͕̩̰̯͔̟̙̖ͪͦͦ͌ͯ͛̐̈̓ ̨̪̺̭̦͇͙͉̎ͯ͆̓ͣ̇́ͬ͊͛͑͢͡W̖͎͔̜̗͕̖̖̟̮͗ͫ̉͋̄͂ͩͦ́̎̓ͩ̾ͮ͟H͔͈̻͚͇̟̻ͦ͌ͨ́̐̆̽̊̽̂͋̐̑̚͘̕Y̧̭̫̬̙͎̯̖̬͙̯͓͈̠͉̋͂̀̊̀̍ͮ͆ͮ̇̾͗̈̔͌͢ ̷̤̫̦̞͔̝̦͖̬̏ͪ̈́ͥ̾̂̍͡W̢̢̗̥͓̠͎͕͎͇̫̠̙̩͈̳̘̜̭ͩ̉̋H̆ͯ̎̉͋̅͋͒͊҉̨̤̘̳̭̩͙̮Y̷̡̢͇̰͓͚̺̼͕̤̖̰̻͓̫̲̹͔ͪͨ͌̍͠ ̴̛̛͕̘̭̘̤̼͉̜͙̲͐̂͂͐̿ͮ̅ͫ͗̌̉ͮ̒͐ͦ̉̚͠W̲̬̻̟̰̲̤̼̝̝̮̟̟̤̏͌̆̏͐͟͠Ḫ̖̳͖̬͍͔̼̞̏̿͆́̌̆̐̄̀͊̇ͦ͛͘͟͟Y̔ͥͦͦ̓̉͏̶̱̖̭͕̺͚͈͎͓̭̤̪̭ ̨̃̈́̍ͯ͊ͥ̿ͫ̈́͋͝҉͕͎͎̪̼̖͎̪̹͇͖̺͙̪W̔̽̉ͦ̃͑̋̾҉̕͢҉̯͉̜̬̼͙̲͘H̨̡͓̞̟̲̠̤̩͇̹̟̣͇̜̉̆ͥ̍̐ͯ͛̐̕ͅŸ̻̪̩͚̮̪̣̝͇̬͉̙̮͈́͐̽̊̿ͦ̓̒̓ͩ̓ͣ͢͠ ̸̷̨̛̻̗̩̮͆̾ͨ̏̔̋̉̋̔ͫ͝W̸̡̡̨̛͖̦͚̳͒̽̑ͯ̏̎̀ͨ̉̔ͩ̎ͮ̚ͅͅH̜̞̫̬̗̱͈̫͖̞͕͙̅̀͆̓͟͢͢ͅY̴̡̭̪̗̥̘̭̭͎̤̺ͤ́͐̿ͨ͒̊̓̉ͯ̉̽ͣ̄ͣ́͛́͟ ̵̴̡̻͈̝͙̻̭͉̫̹̯̘̤̬͍͖̠̅̍̊̂̍͋̌͒̚͘W̡̒ͧ̊ͫ͛̀͞͏̖̙͚̻͓̳̫͍H̶̸́̊̒̎̅͑ͬ̄͋̚̚҉͚̺̻̩̙̱͓͕̝͈Y̴̢͉̗̯̪̦̙̩͉̬͕̟ͭ̄̈̆̆̄̇̓̉ͬ͒̄ͩ̓ͪ̅͗͆́͝ͅ ̵̛͈̻̖̫̣̣̙̖͉̤̳̺͕̠̍̌̅̈ͧ͑̈͂̀̎̅̽̏̅͜͠͡Ẅ̨̳̰͎̭͕̫̫̦́̑́͗ͩ̂̊̄ͧ͘͜ͅH̶ͨ̽ͥͮ͗͐ͯ͏̵͙͎̙̻͈̤̻̖̪̳̞Y̷̢̰̬̺̞̫̣̹͓̗̺̬̯͙̩̼̾̋̃ͨ͒̇͑͌̌̊̓͞͡ ̶̯͔̳͈͎͉̰͉̱̠̣̳̗̺̉ͥ̋̈́͆͡͝͡W̨̲̲̪̩̺̰̻͆̌ͩ̾ͫ̋͌̔̕͜͢H͋ͥ̾̍̌̀̆̿̕͝҉̙͓̗̗̹͍̟͍̝̙̳͓̝Ỹ̸̲͉̖̱͉͔͕̦̝̲̰̠̭͈̱̺́̏͐̋͒͑͑̎ͬͬͧͥ̒̉̔͋̏̇́͝͡͝ ̩͇̟̖̜̝͓͍̙̜̖̎̓͑̄́Ẁ͒̏͌̀ͨ̅̀̅̒́͌ͧ̉̚҉͙̯̻̺̯͚͞Ḩ̴̦̭̙̩̯ͨ̓̿͂͌̉̓̅̚Y̴͓͉̘̲̫̹̞̻͍͕ͪ̏͊ͮ̈́ͥ͡ͅ ̶̨̠̳͇̗͔̜͓̗̤̝̖̫̖̰̝̱͑ͭ̚͟ͅͅW̧̫͚͔͖͙̱͔̲͉̓̎́̌ͩ͌ͪ̐ͪ̍͢͝Ḧ̵̟͓̤͖̻͔̯͖͉̪̲̪̦́͑͛ͯͫ͌ͦ̍̑ͬ̓̎͒͟ͅỶ͇̳̙̥̜̘͇̠̫͍̤̗͍͈͓͍̮̎ͦͪ̎ͯ̆ͬͭ͗̚̕͟͡ ̸̷̥̬̖͓̮̙̃͆͌̒ͣ̓ͭ̈̿̋́͒ͫ̚͢͢͞Wͮ̐ͨ̌ͭͮ͢҉̙̲͇̣ͅH̸̨͈͍̱̖͇̻͉̹̣̥̤̯̜̰̥ͥ̽̇͌ͣͧ̈́̀͞Y̧̖̯̮̳͓͍̙̏̃̈ͥͯͪͫ͘ ̂ͮ̓̓̇͋̏̈҉̳̗̫̼̣͉͚̰͕̪̜̣̼̣͉̹̬̕͠ͅW̰͎̘͈̲̹̼̜̞͈̭̝̽͂͛̒̋̌̎͌̿ͬ͆̐ͭ͆́͢ͅH̢̗̳̫̘͇̹̟ͩ̅̆͑ͦ̽ͭͧ̎̓ͮ͂̐̌͛ͪ̓̚͘Y̵̴̶̠̩̞̤͖̬̣͈̬̱͉͙̬͎͕̻͎̓ͨͩ̊͐͋̎̌̏ͥ͑ͯ͜ ̛̛̅̇̊̃̄̅ͦ͑͒̓̕̕҉̤̳̻͈̮͙͖W͊̐ͤͮͬ̀҉̼̯͕̗͚̖̺̬̲͉̺Ḩ̙̙̜͚͖̲͍̟̖͓̺̭̜̘̒ͣͤ̍̌̄́̓̃ͪ̾̃ͩ̉͋̍̃̚͞Y̧̨̩̭̗͎̭̠̹̱̘̿ͭͮ͋̈̈́̇̆̿̌̈̎ͤ͑̂̚̕͢ ͍͈͈̥̭̘͇̟̭͇͍̩̱͎̻̞͋͐̍͛͗ͣ͊̌̓͊ͮ͆́͟͠͠W̘̞̗̤̳͓̬̒̑ͨ̃̀͜͝͝ͅͅH̢̨̢̳͓͎̝̞̬̗̘̟̳̥͙̍́͊̽̌͐͌̓͆͌͊ͮ͂̚̚͘Ȳ̴̘̼̖̲̹̞̹̫̪̱̙̹̗́ͥ̍ͭ̏ͮ͆͒̃̓̀ ̲͔̥̺͉ͨͦ͊̏ͦ͗͌͑ͣͨ͢͢͟͞ͅW̸̅̇̔̇͋̔̓ͬͤ͗́͝͝͏͖̺͔͇͙͎͇H̸̷̫̩̭̱̺͈͙̃̽ͫ͐̾̿͛̚͢Y̵̖̳̖̱̼̗͍̠͚̲̜̩̳̦͎̱͎̆ͤ̃̃͟͡͞ ͨͬ̍ͣ̿̑̐̉̓́͟͏̝͉͙͉̭̞W͗ͫ́̚͏͎̺̱̩̯̟̹͙̀́͠H̸͎͍̙̟ͮ̓ͨͪ̑ͪͮ̀̀Y͑ͫ̈̄͜҉̡͎̠̪͈͚̘͙͙̥̟̟̰̟̹͓̳͕̬̻͡ ̸̷̣͙̼ͦͮ̓̂̋͂̾̒ͪͨͬ̊̑̈͐͂̾ͅW̧̪̯͕͓̮̠̞ͯ̊̆͆ͪ̈ͨ͂ͅH̡̨͗̅̇ͥ̄̄̓̄͌̌ͥ͡͏̰̞̭̮̜̪͉̻Ȳ̢̢̼̝̪̞̯̬̙̖̗̝̙̘̙͓̲̈̔̓̇͋͐ͪ̽̀͐̀ͫͬ͛̉͘͟͝





---

As the inquiry prepared to travel Tresomin, Ethraeil remained silent as he sat in the carriage. He only stared at the floor of the carriage without saying so much as a word to anyone else in the vicinity as they all got prepared.

 

[K0mori]

The evening after Cassandra's attack, Mariette awoke in her assigned room at the inn wondering whether her dreamweaving had caused any change in Camille's mindset. After a moment of optimism, she rubbed her eyes and shook her head. No, if anything, she's probably dug her heels in deeper. I'll have to keep haunting her until she feels vulnerable. Mariette had certainly had her own share of bad dreams over her many years, but most could be discarded as simple tricks of the mind as opposed to an omen or a lesson worth further investigation. On a positive note, that evening, she felt wondrously well-rested and powerful. The special blood she had consumed still filled her with vigor.

Dressing herself neatly she descended the stairs and sought out Aleister, knowing that she had to tell someone about the miraculous properties of the Romanov blood. She had nearly broached the subject when a thought entered her mind: If I reveal the blood's secret, then Aleister will either expose me or he'll want to try it himself. I'd rather steal his vial for myself... Just in case I wake up tomorrow and I've lost this wonderful feeling...

The shooting lessons went well, and Mariette found that she rather enjoyed the advantage a long-range weapon provided, especially these modern ones which were so well-machined compared to the risky things she remembered her father and brothers using when she was a girl. It was a nice distraction from the boredom of having learned such an amazing secret and having to keep it from the rest of the party. The vivid fear of Cassandra's return began to fade as Mariette embraced the unknown as neither good- or ill-willed. She often bore a mysterious smile, and kept an eye on Camille from a distance, plotting her next nighttime visit.

 

[Viper Actual]

Galina found herself sitting in one of the empty rooms. Through the small window she observed people travelling back and forth troughout the city.
She sighed and continued to polish her rifle. A crossbow, two pistols and a compact shotgun were laid out on the table next to her waiting for their monthly maintenance.

During the past days of waiting Galina had been busy. She had gone to the stables with Rosanna at one point to check up on the horses.

Then she had spent some time honing Wesley's hand-to-hand combat skills with some help from, again after some convincing, Erwin.

Aside from that she had spent some time talking with Jakob, mostly about Atraca and Tsavania.
Galina grunted to herself. Perhaps he would be open to discuss the war?

Jakob didn't come across as one of those brainwashed ex-soldier types who perceived everything as black and white.

 

[Infab]

Valeria looked up to Camille and Aleister, from where she was standing reading over Father Weston's letter again inside the inn's dining hall. "It is likely that the tomes will help us slay Cassandra if we can catch her by surprise. One of the books is a divine spell book used by the Church in the event that standard spells don't work. The other is a book used to bless weaponry with divine magic. The blessed weaponry will certainly hurt her, perhaps even slowing her down enough to properly kill her." she said, holding out both tomes to Aleister. "You are the only one able to use them, as you're a priest. As for the Romanov blood, the blood is in fact the blood of a dire werewolf. Such beings are practically extinct beyond the few decendants of the Romanov line. Perhaps Cassandra's employer found one here on the island. Also, Father Weston mentioned that certain bloodlines do, in fact, affect vampires in certain ways. This also goes for certain bloodlines affecting werebeasts and other creatures potentially. For vampires, the effects only last at most a few days. It is unknown what it does to werebeats and others."

Once Aleister took the books, she folded the letter from Father Weston and tucked it into a pocket inside her coat. "Anyway. We will be venturing to Tresomin. If Cassandra is still there, we can slay her. If not, we'll investigate the village till we discover why she was there and where she went. Gather you things, we'll be departing shortly."

------

"You're lookin' awful happy today, Countess." said Rosanna with a smile, stepping up next to Mariette inside the safety of the inn's entrance hall. The sun shown brightly outside, as constables moved about and prepared the group's horses and carriage for movement. "Guessin' you slept well?"

 

[EdwardDewey98]

No longer affected by the dream he suffered from days prior, Jakob was back into his friendly and paternal attitude. Helping out around the lodge with menial tasks such as cooking or cleaning, or giving advice to Wesley as he trained alongside Erwin and Galina. Jakob spent most of his time talking to the others, or guarding the lodge alongside the other constables. Since he was already a decent shot (in his opinion), he watched from afar as Rosanna trained those who weren't experienced in the art of shooting. Sometimes cheering them from a distance.

--------

The day the group was gearing up to leave, Jakob had visited the Bromwich constabulary, talking to the other lawmen about what had happened at the lodge along with other unimportant topics. "So what's going to happen to the lodge now?" asked Jakob, while looking towards the mustachioed constable. "Well, chum, the owner had some family around the isle. We'll send them a letter to see if they want the place, or...just shut it down till someone buys the building." Jakob looked a bit sad. "Well, hopefully they keep the place. Keep the memory alive, you know?" He then stood and stretched his arms. "Well, it was a pleasure to speak with you all. I don't know if the inquiry will return to Bromwich anytime soon, but I sure would like to visit you all again." said Jakob, with a big smile on his face. "Leaving so soon? We're just about to have tea time." said the constable. "I'd love to have some tea, but duty calls." he said, while tipping his cap and waving everyone goodbye. "What a good lad...Archimides! Where's my tea!?" said the constable as Jakob walked off.

As Jakob made his way through Bromwich, he suddenly stopped in his tracks to look at a general store. He gazed upon it for a while, before making his way inside. He was immediately greeted by a portly, mature woman with short blonde hair. She gave him a friendly smile, before speaking. "Good day, constable! Never seen you before. Need anything?" Jakob waved at the woman, while looking through the shelves. "Thank you. Hope you're having a good day, ma'am. Do you happen to have any coffee or cocoa?" The woman looked through her stock, as Jakob continued to look around the store. Eventually, his eyes settled on something new, sitting by itself surrounded by a few various trinkets. An acoustic guitar.

"Huh." he said to himself, approaching it while scratching his chin. He looked back to the woman. "Where'd you get the guitar, madame?" he said, with a bit of curiosity. She quickly replied "A southerner came by a few months ago. Didn't have a penny to his name, so he sold me the guitar and I gave him some supplies. Good boy, really." Jakob looked at the guitar for a few more moments. "How much for it?" The woman gave Jakob a look, raising her eyebrow. "Well, I think 50 silver coins would work. That or one of those crisp notes they recently started issuing." Jakob cringed. "F-Fifty silver? Oh for the love of Gyasis! This better be the best guitar ever made!" he said, chuckling as he picked the dusty guitar up.

After making his purchase, Jakob left the store with a can of cocoa and the guitar. He certainly got the attention of a few citizens passing by. Seeing a constable carrying a musical instrument was certainly an oddity for most people. Jakob continued his walk back to the lodge, passing by the constables who were organizing the horses. He walked into the lodge and went straight to Rosanna, whom seemed to be talking with the countess. "Guess what I got ya', sister!" he said, approaching the two and holding the guitar out to Rosanna.

 

[Infab]

Rosanna's attention snapped around the moment she heard Jakob speak in their direction. And then she saw it. An old, dusty acoustic guitar. Her eyes lit up. "Oh my gods! Thank you!" she said, giddy with excitement. She reached over and took the guitar, looking it over. Full sized, mahogany and spruce body and neck, rosewood fingerboard...even the strings still look good! She strummed a few of them, fixing the strings that seemed a pinch out of tune. Soon enough, it was in perfect playing condition. "I always wanted to get a guitar of my own, but never really got 'round to it, ya' know. Learned to play my older brother's guitar, but his kid has it now...haven't seen 'em in about two years..."

She strummed a few more times on the instrument, eventually playing a song on it as she walked over and sat down in a chair in the dining hall. She didn't have much to do, honestly, till everyone else was loaded up. All she had to do was just sling her gear on her horse and mount up.

 

[K0mori]

It had been over two days since Mariette consumed the blood. In the two intermittent nights, Mariette avoided haunting her rival, knowing that too many nightmares in a short span would alert her that something unusual was happening. Instead, Mariette explored the town, hunted in the woods, and tested the limits of her newfound abilities. However, the final night the party spent in Bromwich, Mariette could sense a gradually-worsening anxiety in the pit of her stomach. She was nearly as fast as and strong as she had been when the blessed sanguine elixir entered her body, but her powers were slowly beginning to ebb. The benefits, it seemed, would not extend beyond a day.

The thought of finding the source of the potent blood and keeping herself enriched dominated her imagination. The temptation to abandon the inquisition and become a pureblood bled into her dreams, and at times she would awaken believing she had somehow done it, only to settle back into her present reality. She was usually relieved- as on the first night, she didn't want to harm her new acquaintances. Some of them were genuinely kindhearted and the thought of harming them for personal gain disgusted the Countess. She wanted power without having to turn to evil, without having to harm the undeserving. Awakening in the afternoon just before the party's departure from Bromwich, Mariette was proud of her ability to conceal the truth of the Romanov blood and to resist the urge to act rashly, even if it meant reverting back to her ordinary self.

Roseanna had asked if she had slept well. "Oh yes, I suppose so," Mariette replied from under the edge of her parasol. "It's not so easy, dealing with fear, but I'm glad I didn't try to run away. It would not have ended well for me."

Jakob arrived with a guitar moments later, and even the Countess, who was accustomed to the handcrafted goods which adorned her estate, had to admire the simple beauty of the instrument. Roseanna took hold of it and played a melody which helped to slow the pace of the day. In all her years, the vampire had never learned to play an instrument, and it struck her that perhaps she should try. Just like with the pistol under her coat, the opportunity had always been there, but routine had settled over her like dust on a hardwood table. She loaded her bags onto the carriage and the mule, deep in thought, and climbed into the vehicle's interior. Perhaps she'd talk a while with Aleister to keep her calm while they set out for another confrontation with Cassandra. She still wished to get her hands on his vial without harming him, somehow...

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Aleister took both of the tomes from the inquisitor, his eyes roaming over the simple leather covers. The binding of the spine was sturdy and without much apparent age, despite the books likely being well over a century old. Most spellbooks he had encountered in his lifetime had been rather ancient, and the few new ones he had the pleasure to study were either rebindings or reprints of older works. This seemed about intermediate in age, no doubt rebound at least once or twice already. These weren't cheap penny novels or dictionaries made to be left to rot on shelves. They needed strong, practical structuring to last through a great deal of trauma.

"I will take utmost care of these, inquisitor. I'm familiar enough with this sort of material that it should not take me long to grasp the contents of these particular tomes. They may already have some spells I am aware of. Once we get closer to Tresomin, I'll begin blessing the weapons. That shouldn't take long."

He carried the books to his suitcase which was resting on a nearby table, and he opened it up and removed a broad leather belt with several adjustable buckles on it. An item of apparel for priests to wear so that they can conveniently carry tomes, or religious works, with them. They also could be used to carry incense burners, or other censers. It took him only a moment to wrap it around his waist, just above his crimson sash, and he attached both tomes to the belt. He could probably carry maybe one more, but it would start to get a little heavy by then. Usually they only had need to carry a single book, or two smaller ones.

With the tomes now secured, he carried his suitcase to the carriage and strapped it in, and he then climbed into the interior of the carriage. He sat down beside Mariette, across from Ethraeil again.

The past couple of days he noticed that Mariette had seemed to overcome her earlier anxieties concerning Cassandra, and had in fact seemed a little... hyper, or at least more active. It was good she was able to work through her worries by keeping her mind occupied on various activities, he felt, just as he eased his own concerns with prayer, meditation, and relaxation. Admittedly, that wasn't much different from his usual routine, but it worked nonetheless.

"Good morning, Countess, and Ethraeil. Looks like we have another long day of travel ahead. Nothing says enjoyment like being confined to a box all day," he said as he settled into his seat, looking comfortable in his priest robes.

He unclasped the top button of his collar so that he could reach into his robes, and he removed a leather pouch - the one in which he kept his blood vials. Aleister opened it with one hand, sorted through it with a brief eye, and removed one of the vials. Mariette could see that within it alongside several full vials was an empty one, and beside that one was the one Cassandra had given him. Still full, and untouched.

Aleister took a half drink from the other vial he removed and he put it back into the pouch, and returned the pouch to the interior pocket of his robes.

"A little drink for the road. I assume you've already fed, Countess, but if you need a little something then don't hesitate to ask. I have plenty on me for the time being."

 

[K0mori]

"That I have," Mariette replied. But human blood just doesn't taste as well, she thought, frustrated as the blue-labeled vial disappeared within the pouch and then within Aleister's robes. This will not be easy. Perhaps I'll switch the vials if he falls asleep... but with the lich watching me, I'd be outed quickly. Perhaps it might be better to persuade him.

But how?

"I do appreciate the offer, considering we'll be on the road for quite a while. I see you're still carrying that rare werewolf blood, same as I. Has the inquisition gotten to the bottom of that? I must say, the temptation has been quite difficult to resist these few days. I've kept myself busy as best I can, but I do think about it more than I would like to admit."

 

[Emperor Sagan]

"Yes, I've thought about it a little, but I suppose I will be handing it over to the inquisitor eventually. As much as I would like to taste it, I am rather concerned that it may be poisonous, or dangerous. I harbor my own suspicions it may be transformative, though I admit that is a rather silly thought. I highly doubt it would make one like a werewolf. But still, pure Romanov blood? It is most curious, to say the least. So long as I never drink it, I can't be harmed, or long for more. Heavens know I'll probably never get my hands on something like this again," he chuckles.

"But as I said, I'm not in the habit of drinking items given to me by my enemies. I don't trust the pureblood, or her employer. I'm satisfied with my lamb's blood and a few... special blends, so to speak. Perhaps when this is all over, if we are lucky, we'll find more of these vials. And then we may have a feast. I'll think of it as a... as a treat, for a job well done."

As much as he did fear drinking something given to him from an untrustworthy source, he equally feared the reactions of the others in the party. No doubt there would be a great deal of chastising if he gave in and drank it. And now that he had fully immersed himself once again in the duties of a priest, it wouldn't do for someone like him giving in to temptation, of all things.

 

[K0mori]

For a brief moment, Mariette's expression turned cold when Aleister snickered about the rarity of the blood, but it was quickly restored before he had finished speaking. "That would be luck upon luck, mon ami. First we have to track down our foes, discern their scheme, and then defeat them without being caught by surprise again. And I would think it... irresponsible... to kill our foes without first learning how they were able to elevate a vampire to pureblood. I won't hide my selfish reasons for wanting to know; I've long dreamed of walking under the sun again. But I do worry that if we fail to learn this secret, then I fear in future generations, the world will be surprised when the process resurfaces. Surely, there must be some kind of warning sign- a secret ingredient purchased from apothecaries around the continent, holy, or wicked relics gone missing in past years... that sort of thing.

"I believe it's possible to do well while also advancing my own causes. And you?"